tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44894698890404596502018-05-29T06:04:15.900+01:00Gary BolamWriting and studio experiments by Gary Bolam. For more by Gary Bolam visit www.garybolam.co.uk.Gary Bolamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09465955774073449434noreply@blogger.comBlogger57125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489469889040459650.post-49156139883313406672010-01-08T15:40:00.000+00:002010-01-08T15:41:18.984+00:00Observational encountersHe&#39;s sitting across from me with a woolen hat and a matching green <br>Nike bag which is clutched close to his lap. His feet making nervous <br>awkward movements back and forth as he eats his greggs cake from the <br>branded paper wrapper it came in. He&#39;s trying to avoid eye contact <br>with everyone including his own reflection as we pass through the dark <br>train tunnel. He&#39;s either typing or fiddleing with somehing behind his <br>green Nike bag. His feet move back and forth this time streching out <br>into the isle. His shoes look like they are from Burton, the brown <br>leather scuffed at the toe on each foot. Maybe he had a bad skid on <br>the ice, it is rather cold and snowy just now. We pull into lenzie <br>station.<p>The door to the side opens and an old woman with grey hair in a bun <br>walks through. She&#39;s wearing a pink pokadot rain coat and has matching <br>pink flowers in her hair. She stumbles and slumps into a chair and <br>looks out to the foggy cold White of this winter day. He watches on <br>avoiding eye contact. Then opens his green bag. Rumaging through the <br>bag that still sits clutched on his lap. He pulls out a train ticket. <br>The conductor walks past checking tickets then walks by.<p>As he places his ticket back into his green nike bag he gets up and <br>waits at the door as we pull into Croy.<p>His seat sits empty.Gary Bolamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09465955774073449434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489469889040459650.post-80663882539382904792009-11-17T14:51:00.001+00:002009-11-17T14:51:56.566+00:00interesting text titleI am yours to keep forever.Gary Bolamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09465955774073449434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489469889040459650.post-44816679379950632982009-04-30T02:07:00.000+01:002009-04-30T02:08:15.678+01:00Consider Yourself Swallowed<FONT FACE="Andale Mono"><SPAN STYLE='font-size:12.0px'>Bee hits window. Slides down a bit. Trace of sorrow remains at impact point. Repetition ensues. <BR> <BR> ---------End Of Reason---------</SPAN></FONT> Gary Bolamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09465955774073449434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489469889040459650.post-51873206815983865202009-04-30T02:04:00.000+01:002009-04-30T02:06:01.359+01:00Fictional Experiments With Swear words<FONT FACE="Andale Mono"><SPAN STYLE='font-size:12.0px'>Fingers contorted tightly around hair damp with blood. The clean lino flooring feels cold as you pull your fisted hand down from your head and close to your body. The rain batters hard against the window to your left hand side. Repeated under the hushed humm of the extractor fan you ask &#8220;why?&#8221; <BR> <BR> &#8220;oh fuck this shit!&#8221; you shout. Throwing your weight as you rage. Hands flung in the air and stress leaking from every crevice in your body The internal monolog of your life to date &nbsp;echoes in the stereo of your mind. Your ears banging. &#8220;FUCK!&#8221; swearing for the sheer sake of it. This moment becoming more intense than you had first thought it would be. &#8220;Sure, 11am in mono... Yep.. Uh-huh..&#8221; The phone sweaty on your right ear. This is routine. &#8220;fuck you and your details. Fuck you!&#8221; shouting in your ears alongside your internal monolog. &#8220;why the fuck do you have your cock out? And why the fuck is it online.???&#8221; Your mind wonders. &#8220;FUCK FUCK FUCK&#8221; shots of rage spill in your mind. &#8220;who was he to do this and why the fuck do I feel this way. I have no commitment to you and you have no commitment to me, it doesn&#8217;t feel this way though. It feels like your mind. It feels like I'm yours still. Geeze. This is messed up. I am sad. I am sad that I have this internal monolog and this &#8220;FUCK FUCK FUCK&#8221; shot of rage. &#8220;His name is Robert Paulson.&#8221; its a release. <BR> <BR> <BR> Get your fucking ass out my fucking face. I hate this. You and your fucking tiny mind. I hate your fucking ass face. Was I asleep? Have I slept? &nbsp;</SPAN></FONT> Gary Bolamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09465955774073449434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489469889040459650.post-1942118351299470182009-04-30T02:01:00.000+01:002009-04-30T02:02:30.173+01:00Dirty little white boy<FONT FACE="Andale Mono"><SPAN STYLE='font-size:12.0px'>Your hands pressed against the grubby tiles. Your arms outstretched.<BR> <BR> Reflections of a inner glow. </SPAN></FONT> Gary Bolamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09465955774073449434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489469889040459650.post-56027751460070139602009-04-30T01:58:00.000+01:002009-04-30T01:59:25.651+01:00Your toes<FONT FACE="Andale Mono"><SPAN STYLE='font-size:12.0px'>Your toes outstretched in your muddy brown shoes. The stage seems vast in your presence as you grab up your arms to clench down on the cold metal of the microphone. You sleep like a kid with one hand stuck to the side of your face. This is love. This is love. Pulling the extra cord to the sky as you sing. The orange of your vest. The orange of your vest. Emotion flowing through the air as the notes you sing hang steady in the air. Held tight to the inside of you chest, reverberating in endless echoes. You&#8217;re like that doll you wind up as a child, the rusty door you pull with two hands. sit with me as we pull our covers into mountains. Your fingertips touch mine. We&#8217;re out to prove its not in me and not in you. We&#8217;d like to see some colour. Its due. Lying next to me and feeling you, I&#8217;d like to breath in colour.</SPAN></FONT> Gary Bolamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09465955774073449434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489469889040459650.post-70817246643824610382009-04-30T01:56:00.000+01:002009-04-30T01:57:25.696+01:00Little words. (experiments with full stops.)<FONT FACE="Andale Mono"><SPAN STYLE='font-size:12.0px'>Did it not work out? Didn&#8217;t you love me like you use to. Did. That. Make. Things. Easier? This is an experiment with emotion and I have it sussed. </SPAN></FONT> Gary Bolamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09465955774073449434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489469889040459650.post-72814531042978243822009-04-30T01:55:00.000+01:002009-04-30T01:56:15.783+01:00Empty apartment<FONT FACE="Andale Mono"><SPAN STYLE='font-size:12.0px'>The room stands still without your presence. Fake ivy sits on the mantel piece with a thick layer of dust. I forget the true colour of words. Their subtle hue brings no light into this room now. I fear the ivy will see no light, forever destine to sit under its thick protective cover. Wake me with your coloured hue in the darkness of this silent room. A whisper blows a faint trail of dust into the air. The crack of light from the keyhole revealing a dance. Tiny specks of dust twist and turn in that piercing shaft of light. The floor is shallow here. That sinking feeling not as strong. Your feet find a firm ground reminding you of back home. Back when your ankles never ached. But this is an empty apartment now and no longer will your chair hold the arch of your back. it will wait in silence. Protecting itself with a thick layer of dust. The impression from your hands on each chair arm as you heaved your body up that last time will fade. The lack of colour erasing your memory with every moment this room sits idle. </SPAN></FONT> Gary Bolamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09465955774073449434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489469889040459650.post-9834099580104620692009-04-30T01:53:00.000+01:002009-04-30T01:54:40.862+01:00Life has a gift for you<FONT FACE="Andale Mono"><SPAN STYLE='font-size:12.0px'>Wanted to share something today. No more throwing stones at bees. Carry no burden on your muscled shoulders. What ever your passion is you have to keep working at it all the time. If you love what you do then love what you do. One should rarely stop to show fear. Sip the hue of the words you sing as you sit on the floor, legs crossed. I think of you when I fist met you. The centre of your life out of sync with your love. You were a significant performer of talent. </SPAN></FONT> Gary Bolamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09465955774073449434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489469889040459650.post-4421272877656479282009-04-30T01:50:00.000+01:002009-04-30T01:52:08.744+01:00The human need for coexistence<FONT FACE="Andale Mono"><SPAN STYLE='font-size:12.0px'>&#8220;Omg I need a GF&#8221;<BR> <BR> This statement from an eleven year old. Is this a by-product of a society built ever more by divorce, war mistrust and fear? The fear that we&#8217;ll be alone only existing in a shadow of a couple. The shadow of our <I>parents</I> couple. If our need springs erratic from night to night (i.e. the one night stand) is this our evidenced confusion to media and parents?</SPAN></FONT> Gary Bolamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09465955774073449434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489469889040459650.post-41650751612047409842009-04-30T01:48:00.000+01:002009-04-30T01:49:45.759+01:00A news flash<FONT FACE="Andale Mono"><SPAN STYLE='font-size:12.0px'>A news flash my friend. With eyes open wide to the world, unable to sleep and awake with ideas. I urge for <BR> <BR> --------------end of message---------------</SPAN></FONT> Gary Bolamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09465955774073449434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489469889040459650.post-41621932240199883592008-10-26T03:27:00.000+00:002008-10-26T04:28:11.094+00:00Grandmother<FONT FACE="Andale Mono"><SPAN STYLE='font-size:12.0px'>My grandmother. <BR> <BR> My gran.<BR> <BR> She is dead now but she is alive in the slightest of moments.<BR> <BR> I see them floating in the air they spin with the wind. They are the whitest feathers on the most crisp of clear days. That is my Gran now. Each floating feather reminds me of the beauty of her person and the smell of the baked bread as we went to her house on the motorway. <BR> <BR> <BR> I smile. </SPAN></FONT> Gary Bolamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09465955774073449434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489469889040459650.post-20643417395614128572008-10-26T03:24:00.000+00:002008-10-26T04:25:00.207+00:00"if nothing changes, nothing changes"<FONT FACE="Andale Mono"><SPAN STYLE='font-size:12.0px'>The best bits are coloured in <BR> <BR> <BR> with crayon<BR> <BR> <BR> </SPAN></FONT><FONT SIZE="4"><FONT FACE="Trebuchet MS, Verdana, Helvetica, Arial"><SPAN STYLE='font-size:13.0px'>rock my socks<BR> <BR> </SPAN></FONT></FONT><FONT FACE="Trebuchet MS, Verdana, Helvetica, Arial"><FONT SIZE="5"><SPAN STYLE='font-size:16.0px'><B>The Face of a Worm<BR> <BR> </B></SPAN></FONT><FONT COLOR="#CCCCCC"><FONT SIZE="4"><SPAN STYLE='font-size:13.0px'>If you're waiting for a sign, this is it. Do it. It will be amazing.<BR> </SPAN></FONT></FONT><FONT SIZE="4"><SPAN STYLE='font-size:13.0px'><BR> </SPAN></FONT></FONT><FONT FACE="Verdana, Helvetica, Arial"><SPAN STYLE='font-size:12.0px'>learning how to dance in the rain<BR> <BR> &quot;if nothing changes, nothing changes&quot;<BR> </SPAN></FONT> Gary Bolamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09465955774073449434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489469889040459650.post-11429783167087394802008-10-26T03:23:00.000+00:002008-10-26T04:24:01.383+00:00I promise to breath<FONT FACE="Andale Mono"><SPAN STYLE='font-size:12.0px'>Your name held tight to my lips the closest thing to a kiss I had a dream last night. I dreamt of you. Your kissing lips as we went somewhere<BR> <BR> <BR> </SPAN></FONT> Gary Bolamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09465955774073449434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489469889040459650.post-81390161587947843842008-10-18T09:35:00.001+01:002008-10-18T09:35:21.406+01:00Drifting At Sea<FONT FACE="Andale Mono"><SPAN STYLE='font-size:12.0px'>So I sit and watch as the vegetables grow mouldy and milk sours.<BR> <BR> I'm on a boat and it is crazy. <BR> <BR> Fish and Chips. Fish and Chips.</SPAN></FONT> Gary Bolamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09465955774073449434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489469889040459650.post-71564141520521107712008-10-18T09:33:00.001+01:002008-10-18T09:33:51.087+01:00The Pillows Kiss My Neck<FONT FACE="Andale Mono"><SPAN STYLE='font-size:12.0px'>I'm warm. Too warm. Sitting under the covers pillows piled high against the back of my neck. I'm reminiscing on times where you watched over me. I know you still do. I feel it. Its comforting to know that I have you still. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<BR> <BR> <BR> And that smell you have it makes my head turn in your direction nose smelling your scent. Like boy and soap.<BR> <BR> <BR> <BR> <BR> I have a lot to be thankful for. I know this. I have had nothing and everything. My health and my non health. The duvet cover is warm and heated even hotter by the laptop that sits on my knees as I type. My legs and body close to breaking into a sweat. I rest with my body spread out the length of the bed the pillows piled high against my neck adding the the heat. I sit reminiscing of the times I have spent in hospital. I really was ill and I only think it is sinking in just now. I cant believe I haven't ever thought about it until this point. </SPAN></FONT> Gary Bolamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09465955774073449434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489469889040459650.post-66488502388615366222008-10-08T06:14:00.001+01:002008-10-08T06:14:36.339+01:00Sleepy thoughts<FONT FACE="Andale Mono"><SPAN STYLE='font-size:12.0px'>Boo.. Its 6am and I have been awake and entertaining myself with bbc iplayer and the internet for the last few hours. I can not sleep. I have such a messed up sleeping pattern its unreal. I should perhaps stop sleeping in until lunch time and working at night. Humm... A grand plan maybe stirring up a brew.<BR> <BR> So it is my 24th birthday tomorrow I guess. How random. I find myself with a degree, a 25% stake in a company, living at home, still in the cinema, with a boyfriend, a fantastic group of friends and my health. I have a meeting with channel 4 on Friday, a hospital appointment at dermatology directly before that meeting and an amazing night out planned on the Sunday. Its exciting. </SPAN></FONT> Gary Bolamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09465955774073449434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489469889040459650.post-3400245239484015802008-10-05T05:00:00.001+01:002008-10-05T05:00:21.108+01:00The desolate roar of the wind<FONT FACE="Andale Mono"><SPAN STYLE='font-size:12.0px'>Blah<BR> I want to write. I haven't in ages. </SPAN></FONT> <P ALIGN=CENTER> <FONT FACE="Andale Mono"><SPAN STYLE='font-size:12.0px'> </SPAN></FONT> <P> <FONT FACE="Andale Mono"><SPAN STYLE='font-size:12.0px'><BR> <BR> I see my face slip from the top 10. Your order making a miss of the time we spent. Your innocent face reflects images of our past. The memories I treasure close still edging away to the surface. Resulting in tears with no sound I cant stop the thought that it could still be. The thought that it wasn&#8217;t ever that bad. I am kept back by these thoughts and wish I wasn&#8217;t sometimes. I am in that new place still though the dust is fast settling. I am uncomfortable with the use of single gay male though I fear this will never change. Moments of passion tide the sea as the desolate winds roar. I am at sea. Flickering a torch within the mist to find land. I need to settle for a rest, to move on with the world and not be at sea. I lack certainty within this boat. The desolate roar of the wind makes my boat unstable. </SPAN></FONT> Gary Bolamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09465955774073449434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489469889040459650.post-54691558683812955702008-09-23T00:46:00.000+01:002008-09-23T00:47:07.993+01:00Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish<FONT FACE="Andale Mono"><SPAN STYLE='font-size:12.0px'>Yep.<BR> <BR> That is what I shall do. I shall stay hungry and stay foolish. I will take projects forward that are worth the effort and if they provide a hunger in me then I shall follow them. I will be intuitive and I shall find success. I will be happy and I will be learning. I will make you smile and I will be there for you when you are in need but trust me when I say that I will never give up on something I believe in. <BR> <BR> Believe, even if foolish, is half the battle of success. The other is staying hungry.</SPAN></FONT> Gary Bolamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09465955774073449434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489469889040459650.post-30706306841607043172008-09-18T09:55:00.000+01:002008-09-18T09:56:01.369+01:00ARGHhhh...<FONT FACE="Andale Mono"><SPAN STYLE='font-size:12.0px'>Arghh... That is all that I have to say right now. Anything else would be either intangible or rude.</SPAN></FONT> Gary Bolamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09465955774073449434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489469889040459650.post-60263150053358790852008-09-10T03:25:00.001+01:002008-09-10T03:25:47.169+01:00New site name and look<FONT FACE="Andale Mono"><SPAN STYLE='font-size:12.0px'>So, I have changed a few things as you might well know and yeah it looks better. I love the wee guy up the top. All very funky. Expect some more writing very soon.</SPAN></FONT> Gary Bolamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09465955774073449434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489469889040459650.post-81866412309765566292008-09-05T01:50:00.001+01:002008-09-05T01:50:46.040+01:00I thought you should know...<FONT FACE="Andale Mono"><SPAN STYLE='font-size:12.0px'>I thought you should know. It isn't too much of a revelation but I guess I should say it all the same. I... I love you. <BR> <BR> Yeah you. You there reading this right now. Its funny I mean I don&#8217;t even know you.. Well maybe I do but the way your eyes run over these words just like that. There. Did you see. Your eyes did it then. I like that. I guess, oh I don&#8217;t know it makes me feel viewed. Yeah viewed. <BR> <BR> <BR> I love you<BR> </SPAN></FONT> Gary Bolamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09465955774073449434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489469889040459650.post-61126103262341653692008-08-15T16:56:00.001+01:002008-08-15T16:56:51.319+01:00Travels<FONT FACE="Andale Mono"><SPAN STYLE='font-size:12.0px'>So travels from Larbert to Glasgow are getting a bit boring and they are expensive. Well I'm off through there now and I could do with out the hassle of waiting to get the last train. Boo. So yeah. I'm looking forward to moving back through as soon as possible. Roll on next month and that elusive job.</SPAN></FONT> Gary Bolamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09465955774073449434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489469889040459650.post-27278539920899774292008-08-05T01:01:00.000+01:002008-08-05T10:45:31.596+01:00Update<FONT FACE="Andale Mono"><SPAN STYLE='font-size:12.0px'>So I move home soon I have yet to pack and I am indeed not entirely looking forward to having to get the train through every shift I have in the cinema from now on in. boo... Anyway hopefully I shall save some money by staying at home and have more time to update things and make everything a tad more organised. <BR> <BR> <BR> A clear out is in order. Seriously. </SPAN></FONT> Gary Bolamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09465955774073449434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489469889040459650.post-25378114237345221592008-08-01T15:35:00.001+01:002008-08-01T15:35:41.944+01:00Potential<FONT FACE="Andale Mono"><SPAN STYLE='font-size:12.0px'>I got paid today, decided to go to Ireland with Michael randomly in September. My phone is sitting next to me with my passport underneath it. I'm listening to frightened rabbit and have been for the last few hours on repeat. I have work in an hour and a half and I could do anything before hand, I am infinite at this moment and I enjoy the adventures I have planned and the ones I have yet to discover. I am an artist, an adventurer and a business man all wrapped in one. </SPAN></FONT> Gary Bolamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09465955774073449434noreply@blogger.com0